


Sigurdigan, but not really

by eLTeh



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes
Genre: Crack, Gen, One Shot, a huge shitpost because of a bet I made, im sorry you couldnt make it to the stream kuja
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 11:34:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14976341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eLTeh/pseuds/eLTeh
Summary: "I'll write Sigurd x Eldigan if the new summer banner is Fates. Smut if it's all Fates, fluff if it's one character."Fortunately, it was neither, so this monstrosity was created anyway. Maybe unfortunate.The summary? Local Sigurd overheats.Not putting this under the Genealogy tag to spare the poor Jugdral fandom from reading this.





	Sigurdigan, but not really

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Sapph for staying through the stream, extreme apologies to Kuja because she missed it.

Sigurdigan - The Gayening

It was a blistering hot afternoon, and Sigurd had decided to spend it residing in the Askr castle to escape the wrath of the sun's rays. Sipping a glass of ice-cold lemonade, Sigurd lay relaxed on a completely random but pristine white chair. However, no matter how much he drank, the lemonade did not seem to quench his thirst. Sigurd wanted something... more. Something more yellow than the lemonade. Especially because no matter how hard he tried, Deirdre simply refused to arrive in Askr. He would have to settle for something else.

His reverie was broken by the familiar voice of his son. "Hello, father. What are you doing on this fine afternoon?" Seliph greeted.

Sigurd continued to stare blankly into the patterned wall in front of him. "Eldigan," he muttered under his breath, and leapt off his chair to seek out the yellow he required in his life. With every step, the blue haired man headed closer to his goal.

Seliph, now wearing an incredibly confused expression on his face, was absolutely baffled. The only words he could muster was "what in the gods' name is my father doing?" He sure as hell hoped his father was not cheating on his mother, but to be quite fair his mother had (accidentally) cheated on his father with Arvis.

\---

Sigurd waltzed into the summoner's room with the grace of his own steed. However, Sigurd tended to charge into the battlefield recklessly, so his steed was not very graceful at all. In the corner of his eye, he spotted brilliant golden locks belonging to who was arguably the prettiest man dead. Now alive. In his best efforts to be a ninja, Sigurd attempted to approach the man stealthily.

"Greetings, Sigurd. What do you require?" Curses, Sigurd had been noticed! His surprise attack had been foiled. Regaining his composure, Sigurd looked into his friend's eyes, giving him the "Important Serious Sigurd Look (TM)". It was, as it suggested, very important.

"I require my thirst to be quenched!" Sigurd demanded, passion flaring up in his eyes as his hands curled into fists. Eldigan looked up at him, then down at his fists, and up towards his face again.

Putting a hand to his chin, Eldigan said, "ah. You seem to be overheating again, Sigurd." Sigurd was always oddly eccentric during summertime. Looking at the blue haired sex lord's determined face, the blonde was reminded of when he and Quan poured buckets of water over Sigurd to cool the man down. Unfortunately, Quan was not around for Eldigan to carry out that plan successfully, and it seemed like he would have to think of another method.

"Come, Sigurd. I know a place where I can quench your.... thirst." Eldigan said, coercing Sigurd into following him. However, this was easier said than done as Sigurd's eyes began to resemble Lachesis' as he eyed Eldigan's Mystletainn. Awkwardly, Eldigan walked out of the room, with Sigurd much too enthusiastically following suit. 

\---

They soon arrived at a brightly lit room, its every corner filled with large, swirling portals. Each of them had a poorly taped piece of paper describing the outrealms each led to, and in some cases, the 'signs' were missing.  
Sigurd gasped audibly upon entering the room, and his face was filled with wonder. 

"This visit was not authorised, but at this point, I believe I have no other options." He looked towards Sigurd. Sigurd looked back at him, visibly drooling. In Sigurd's point of view, all he saw was a large glass of lemonade. Eldigan pinched the bridge of his nose.

Attempting to get Sigurd's attention, Eldigan attempted to shake his friend, only for his hand to recoil from the heat. How many times had he reminded Sigurd not to use the flammable craft glue? Well, too late, because Sigurd was gaining heat at a rapid pace. "We will be... having some fun," Eldigan said in a monotone voice. Eldigan's voice was not very expressive. It was only good for reading out cheesecake recipes to provide ASMR. However, we are straying from the topic, so let us get back to the story.

Eldigan dramatically raised his arm and pointed to a portal labelled "Nifl". Well, he hoped it was actually Nifl, considering the poor maintenance of the signs. Sigurd ran towards it obediently, then skid to a halt right before the portal. "Oh, for the love of Naga," Eldigan muttered, and walked over. Sigurd looked back to him, ready to release the Divine Tyrfing. Before he could do so, the blonde inelegantly kicked him right above the Divine Tyrfing, causing the great descendant of Baldur to fall into the portal. 

Watching the man disappear, Eldigan pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket. The paper was yellowed with coffee stains, and the handwriting on it was that of his dear friend Quan's. 'Refrigerate Sigurd for 3 hours', it read. 3 hours. Well, that was going to take a while. A sharp cry resounded from the portal, and a fancily dressed arm stuck out of it, threatening to escape the land of snow. Eldigan tackled him in. Sigurd was going to be refrigerated for 3 hours, and he was going to like it.

\---

Falling in the portal, Eldigan landed right above Sigurd, his body weight pinning the blue haired man down. This resulted in his friend blinking at him multiple times, and his face heating up as quickly as a Valflame barbecue. 'This is counterintuitive', Eldigan thought, and immediately got off Sigurd. From the snow, Sigurd continued to stare at Eldigan. More specifically, now his beautiful golden locks. The blonde immediately grabbed a fistful of snow and threw it on Sigurd's face, obscuring his oddly sexual expression from sight. He wish he'd brought a shovel.

Painstakingly, Eldigan began shovelling snow (ala Revalations Chapter 11) with his Mystletainn. Apparently, Mystletainn was not designed for shovelling snow. After 5 minutes, Sigurd's arm was buried in snow. The paladin of Nordion decided to give up, finding a nearby spot to rest and monitor the overheating man.

To no one's surprise, staring at a body laying in snow was incredibly monotonous. Eldigan soon felt his eyelids drooping. A nap would certainly not hurt, he thought, looking at the still body. Most definitely not.

\--

"Good morning!" a voice chirped. Said voice then found himself met with the end of Mystletainn's blade.

Not the Mystletainn that voice wished for, fortunately. I don't know what you expected.

Eldigan lowered his blade, upon realising it was Sigurd, who had somehow dislodged himself from the snow. "...Oh. I thought you were foe." Attempting to measure Sigurd's temperature, Eldigan placed a hand to his friend's forehead. It was slightly warm, and no longer burning like the man's temporary passion for him.

How long had it been? Well, some tests had to be done. He took out the crumpled sheet of paper again.  
'Ask Sigurd questions:  
1\. What is the square root of 2?  
2\. Why do you want to bang me?  
3\. Recite the script of a play regarding bees.'

Well, Quan may have been lacking in intelligence occasionally, but he was skilled in handling overheating men. Eldigan recited the first question out loud.  
"Sigurd, what is the square root of 2?"  
"One!"

It seems he would have to wait a while longer.

\---

"Eldigan."

"Have you finally regained your composure, Sigurd?"

"Do you wanna build a snowman?"

Eldigan had to channel all his fury into his bare fists at the remark, and proceeded to unleash it on an unsuspecting tree. The tree caught on fire and burned down. He turned back to Sigurd, forcing a smile on his face. "O-of course. It would be a pleasure to."

Sigurd painstakingly rolled up a snowball, which slowly built up to the size of his head. Then it lost all momentum and crumbled back into the snow. The man looked incredibly disappointed. It was painful to watch.

Out of pity, Eldigan decided to help pass the time another way. Deciding to skip the second question (from the awkwardness it would bring forth), he asked, "Sigurd, why don't you recite the script of that play we watched about... bees?"

Leaping at the chance to impress the blonde haired man, Sigurd immediately began. "According to all known... laws... of... Um... flying... there is no way Ares is able to fly."

Perhaps he would have to try something else.

Perhaps he had to resort... to the forbidden second question.

"Sigurd."

"Hm?"

"List me every reason why you would want to make sweet love with... with me."

It was as if a lightbulb appeared over Sigurd's head (it didn't), and that caused his expression to light up as well. "Well, um, you're.... incredibly yellow, Eldigan... like lemonade, but better..."  
Now imagine that in the most seductive tone possible. In Sigurd's voice. Which sounds somewhat drunken.

'Naga help me,' Eldigan thought to himself, and miraculously, his prayers were answered as a large bush of light purple hair showed up in the corner of his eye.

"Sigurd! There you are. I... I remember you!" Deirdre shouted, rushing right at her first husband to pull him into a hug. 

Sigurd, however, struggled. "I DEMAND MORE YELLOW IN MY LIFE!" he announced, shaking his fist towards the sky. Deirdre didn't react, instead pulling her husband into a tighter embrace.

"Oh, honey, you're being so silly. Think of the children," she cooed. Her soothing voice redirected Sigurd's attention back to her, who gazed warmly into her equally purple eyes. Almost mesmerised, Sigurd ran his thin hands through Deirdre's soft hair, fluffy like clouds. 

"You're right, sweetie - Arvis can rot in the depths of hell as he so wishes," he whispered back into her ears, "and Eldigan isn't as beautiful compared to you, anyway." Accepting the embrace, Sigurd pulled Deirdre into a kiss.

Eldigan shed a tear at the scene, despite being partially offended by Sigurd's remark.

\---

The next day, everyone pelted Eldigan with questions regarding the sudden appearance of a really large purple cloud, because Sigurd was too busy making out with her. Eldigan simply shrugged in response and directed the crowd to Arvis.

Screw Arvis.


End file.
